


If You Want Me

by orphan_account



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You and Frank have a quiet night in.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	If You Want Me

Sat with your legs draped across Frank’s lap, you sat in easy silence as you grazed on chips from the local takeaway and knocked back bottles of beer and watched the television; he had promised to sit and watch all three John Wick films with you, and you were glad that he was finally making true on his words. It had been a rough week for both of you - between you fretting and panicking about college, and him being away most nights to handle ‘business’, there seemed like hardly any time that the two of you could just sit and relax with your feet up. He had the recliner up, stretching out his legs, boots having been kicked off long ago, his jacket had been slung over the edge of the door, hanging from the corner like the ghost of what was yet to come, his bag was dumped by the fireplace; his typical smell of sweat and blood was replaced by the sweet scent of apple and mint shampoo, as you always made him shower when he came over. He was wearing the grey jogging bottoms and Batman patterned socks that you had bought him long ago, no shirt on. 

Completely at ease, you stretched a little, and started rubbing the back of your neck, achy and sore from where you had been sat so awkwardly for the past hour and a half; looking over at you, Frank furrowed his brows and cleared his throat, rubbing your calf sweetly. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

You nodded, pulling your legs from his and sitting upright. “Yeah, my neck’s just a little stiff is all.” 

Frank smiled a little, that cracked and beautifully broken smile that you always looked forward to seeing at the end of every day - even if, most of the time, it was on a screen; he licked his lips, shifting slightly where he sat. “Want me to grab painkillers?” 

You shook your head, moving closer and leaning your head on his shoulder, both of your arms wrapping around one of his as you snuggled in. “Nah, I’m good… thank you, though.” 

“It’s fine,” he assured gruffly, relaxing a little at the contact, but something was on his mind; the two of you had been doing this for a while, now, settling in either yours or his home and snuggling up, staying up for hours on end on the phone when you could, going out to dinner when it could be arranged, sleeping in each other’s bed, cuddled beneath the duvet - you kept a spare change of clothes at his flat, and he kept a spare change of clothes in your wardrobe. There were traces of you in everything he did, and there were traces of him in everything you did - yet nothing was official despite the fact that everyone referred to you as his, and everyone referred to him as yours. With everyone else, Frank was gruff and rough and sometimes even cruel, but with you, he was soft and sweet and kind - it was known that he would never hurt you, but would hurt anyone who even thought about looking at you the wrong way; Frank was known to square up to people simply for gazing at you for a second too long, he was known to get into fights when people talked about you behind your back. He protected you in every sense of the word. You were the only person that he cared about so deeply, so passionately, and so unconditionally. But nothing was official. Clearing his throat again, and looking down at you with the softest of gazes, as if his hickory eyes were made of nothing but hearts, Frank tried to put it into words despite the fact that he was far from a poet. “You ever think about… y’know… us, becoming a thing? Or whatever it is you call it these days?” 

You were silent for a minute, and Frank could have sworn that he heard you thinking as you bit at your lower lip and hummed. “Honestly? From time to time, yeah, but then… but then I think about how I’d be nothing but a risk to you - I mean, what if a gang or the mafia or someone found out about us and came after me? I can’t… shit, Frankie, I can’t do that to you - I can’t put you at risk like that.” 

“Hey,” Frank said lowly, pulling away enough to force you to look into his eyes. “You wouldn’t be putting anyone at risk. I know you think you would, but you know that I’d fucking protect you with everything I got. No one would fucking dare to come after you, or even think about that shit.” 

You smiled a little, crooked and kind of sad. “You mean that?” 

He nodded. “Yeah… listen, if you want me, (y/n), just say the damn word, ‘cause I’m already yours.” 

The sadness fell from your smile as you leaned up to kiss his cheek so softly. “Of course I want you, Frankie, I want you more than anything, and I’d give fucking anything to be yours. I’d do anything.” 

“The only thing I’m asking you to ever do is stay by my side,” he whispered, voice gravelly and low. “But, that’s only if you want to.” 

“I do want to,” you agreed softly, moving to straddle his lap as you pressed your forehead against his, your hands on his chest, letting his hands rest over yours, covering them completely as you nearly grinned. “I love you, Frank Castle.” 

Clenching his jaw a little, Frank let out a soft growl. “I love you, too.” 

“This is the part where you kiss me.” You whispered with a soft chuckle, pulling away so that Frank could lean up and capture your lips with his own in the most tender and sweet of kisses; the way his lips moved with yours felt like something that only destiny could have created, as if your lips had been made for his and his for yours. If his lips were the stars, yours were the obsidian night canvas. Granted, it was far from perfect, but in that moment, nothing could have beaten it, and nothing ever would. 


End file.
